The Weight of the Truth
by carlaisnt
Summary: Crossover with Veronica Mars. Dan Humphrey, Carrie Bishop, Blair Waldorf.


He does a double-take when he sees her in the Cornell Social Sciences Library. He's pretty sure Serena said her best friend was going to Yale, but he could have heard her wrong. He knows he didn't listen too well the last few months of their relationship, but he doesn't think he would have gotten that wrong. He realizes he's staring when she glances up and uncharacteristically gives him a small smile before returning to her work. So now it's pretty much unavoidable not to do the whole small talk thing. It's not that he doesn't like Blair Waldorf, because dating Serena for almost two years pretty much forced them to become some strange sort of friends, but he's just not into rehashing high school drama the day before his Cognitive Psychology term paper is due. Still, he sighs before hitching his messenger bag up higher on his shoulder and makes his way across the room.

"Hey, so, how are you?" He asks, and then mentally berates himself for this decision because she's looking at him like he's just escaped from a mental ward for even trying to speak to her.

"Um, I'm…good," she responds hesitantly, pauses. "Do I know you?" He was expecting some kind of standoffish behavior, because this is Blair, who despite all her flaws – number one being that she's the Devil Incarnate – is nothing if not loyal, and he did dump her best friend right after she changed her life plans to go to school with him. He was expecting their usual brand of oddly enjoyable sarcastic banter, but this attitude is puzzling. Maybe if she had said the phrase in her typical holier-than-thou tone, he would have understood.

"Uh, yeah, Blair. It's me, Dan." She laughs softly, and he furrows his eyebrows. "What's, what's going on?"

"Dan. I'm not Blair. My name's Carrie." He could slap himself. What the hell? They look incredibly similar, but she dresses much more casually, and they carry themselves very differently. He should have known. Now he's humiliated himself in front of some stranger. He fidgets with his scarf.

"Oh, my god. I am so sorry. You just really, really look like this girl I used to know. And I was telling myself, as I was walking over here, that I thought she was going to Yale, but… And now I've just totally made an idiot of myself. I'm really sorry to bother you. I'll, I'll just be going now." She giggles. He shakes his head and turns to walk away.

"Dan!" she calls softly, just a little too loud for the rest of the library dwellers, apparently. He looks back over his shoulder at her, inquisitively. He prays to a god he doesn't believe in – to any god, really – that she's not going to say something that will make him feel like a bigger imbecile than he already does. But then again, she really isn't Blair Waldorf. He takes a few steps towards her. "You wanna get some coffee?" He smiles and nods at her.

He learned the first week that in college, the first question is always "What's your major?" and the second is "Where are you from?" This girl doesn't ask either one of them. In fact, he's beginning to think she's actively avoiding them. She begins the coffee date with a rambling diatribe on her awful Soc professor, but then she calms down and asks him what kind of movies and books he likes. She's not shy like he originally thought, but she is definitely reserved. She still reminds him of Blair, but in a different sort of way. She makes fun of him for his pretentious film and literary preferences, but nods along with a couple choices. She's got an attitude, she doesn't care what people think, and she's clever in a subtle sort of way. He finds himself missing Blair suddenly, but likes the mystery of a parallel girl who doesn't yet know his past. They end up talking for almost two hours, reordering four times, black with two sugars for him, and chai lattes for her. He pays, because he learned something while spending all that time on the Upper East Side, even though he was dating a girl with a trust fund ten times bigger than his four years of tuition. When he finally looks at his watch, he blinks and interrupts her mid-sentence.

"I'm so sorry, but I've got to go! I have this term paper to write, and I haven't even started reading for it. It was really nice meeting you, though, Carrie." She smiles, half-dimples forming.

"I had a lot of fun. Maybe we could hang out again sometime." He grins back at her, and fidgets with his scarf for a second before pulling out his phone. She takes it from him and enters her number and slips it back into his coat pocket for him. Then she grabs the scarf he's holding and tugs it towards her as she moves upwards, capturing his lips in a soft whisper of a kiss. It's barely there, and then a flash of her teeth and the darkness of her hair and she's gone, and he's left with a shadow of vermilion lipstick on his lips. And for a second he thinks, _oh. Blair. _The thought runs on repeat in his head, and he knows he can never call this girl, no matter how much he wishes he could.


End file.
